


In Magdalen Chapel

by drawingblinds (breathtaken)



Category: History Boys (2006)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-06-09
Updated: 2007-06-09
Packaged: 2017-12-23 13:57:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/927301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/breathtaken/pseuds/drawingblinds
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"He learned to love quietly and steadily, the progressions of his feeling no less real for their lack of spectacle. The time for schoolboy crushes, sweeping and sharp, was long past..."</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Magdalen Chapel

It started in Magdalen Chapel. Akthar was not surprised that Posner auditioned for the college choir barely before he'd unpacked his bags, and was pleased but no more surprised when he was successful - and reserve soloist, no less. Of course, it was Akthar's good luck that the second time he came to Eucharist (he might be Muslim, but he could still go to watch his friend sing), the first soloist had gone down with food poisoning the night before. In hindsight he would come to understand that it was Posner's light, pure tenor, which he has heard ten or a hundred times before but never forming such unfamiliar bewitching syllables, soaring through the the _Gloria_ on that crisp February morning that moved his brotherly love into something altogether deeper. He learned to love quietly and steadily, the progressions of his feeling no less real for their lack of spectacle. The time for schoolboy crushes, sweeping and sharp, was long past, and that sure, simple faith of a college morning made Akthar feel as though he held his future in his hands.

Posner was still in love with Dakin, of course. Though Akthar would never call it love - that was something lives were built around. Infatuation, really. It was everything Posner was, grandiose and a little bit silly, while raw and aching beneath, and sometimes his friend would say something or look a certain way and suddenly the feeling of Dakin sat between them, unmentionable. Posner had never really talked to him about Dakin, not since an exchange in fifth year which had prompted the former to ask, "You don't like him at all, do you?" and Akthar to look away, silent because he didn't know what he hated more, that Dakin was so fucking smug all the time or that he'd toy with Posner only to discard him like something broken.

But now they were at Magdalen, mentions of Dakin grew less and less, because Magdalen wasn't Oriel and they wouldn't have visited him anyway. Well, Dakin wouldn't have visited them, and enthralled as he was, Posner still had his pride. So gradually the spectre of his friend's misguided affections faded, and Akthar would sometimes find himself smiling privately because as they worked, ate and lived, he could come to Posner without a single thing between them.

* * *

In half a year, nothing changed. Logically, Akthar felt that telling Posner eventually would be the sensible thing, but weeks ticked into months as he relished their bold camaraderie and the deep, secret joy it formed in his breast. It was only late in Hilary term, when Posner grew sadder, that Akthar realised the beginning was over.

It was prelims that did it, first. They both began to feel the weight of work, and the weight of _urgency_ , of _less than two months to go and you should be starting revision_. In hindsight, of course, it was obvious that they would have to work harder for an Oxford degree than they ever had at school, but in that seventh term Oxbridge had been their holy grail and Akthar had never considered the fact that they would have to effectively start all over again. This realisation hit Posner rather harder, and even though he was bright, brighter than any of them and Akthar thought he'd do just fine, he became daunted and drawn. Akthar found himself arranging Posner's revision for him, building a programme around testing each other and colour-coded flash cards, but the other boy still frowned and said _I can't_ more than he had before. And this melancholy was compounded as that spring, everyone they knew seemed to fall in love at once. Within several weeks mid-Hilary, Posner and Akthar were almost the only single ones in their wider group of friends; they even heard through Scripps that three of their ex-classmates had girlfriends, including Scripps himself. Ever the romantic, Posner sighed and looked away whenever they were around a couple, and Akthar realised simply after one such episode that it was time to tell.

* * *

"It's disgusting," Posner pulled a face. "Happy couples wherever we go. I'm sure there's a rule against public displays of affection in the middle of the quad." They were walking back to Posner's room, swerving to avoid a boy and girl kissing each other in the centre of the path. "Sometimes I feel like we're the only people in the world who are single."

"How come you haven't met anyone you're interested in?" Akthar was genuinely surprised that in almost two terms, Posner had never mentioned anybody beyond expressing an admiration.

"Oh, God. I'm attracted to practically every man I meet these days. Just I have no idea whether to tell if they're attracted to me. This isn't school - I'm terrified that anyone I express an interest in will beat me up or have me sent down or something."

Akthar laughed. "You're being melodramatic. If you like someone, there's no harm in trying."

Posner pouted (really, that was the only word for it). "You like girls, how could you possibly understand?"

Akthar took a breath. This was the moment. "...not exclusively." He looked ahead and began to climb the stairs.

"Fuck!" Posner was still standing at the bottom, staring at him. "You're joking! All these years you let me think you were straight." He sounded a little aggrieved.

"I was straight. It's only recently... I liked girls, and then I saw someone and realised that it just wasn't limited to girls."

"Wow, and I had no idea." He laughed to himself, and followed Akthar up the stairs. "See, I can't even tell. So who's this mystery man? Is it someone we know?"

"Can we have toast? I'm starving," Akthar called behind him as they reached Posner's room. He knew his friend could tell that he was evading the question, but decided it was necessary until they had tea and buttered toast each and Posner was prepared for the fact that there was a conversation to be had. This wasn't a conversation they could have while on the move.

Ten minutes later, Akthar wiped a scattering of crumbs from around his mouth and decided it was time. "This boy I was talking about...yes." Akthar gulped and swallowed a mouthful of tea. "I realised I was attracted to men when I realised I was attracted to you."

He looked up from his cup. Posner's eyes widened. "Me."

"You." Akthar paused. The air was thick and heavy, as before a storm. He could almost feel the tension crackling.

"How long have you...?"

"Er, a few months. I wanted to make sure... you know, that I'd got it right." Posner was still just looking at him, and it was the first time that he could remember finding his friend's gaze inscrutable. "Look, I've said this now, and we can just...I don't know. Whatever you want."

Posner drank his tea, slowly. "I have to think about this. It's..."

Akthar held up a hand. "You don't have to explain."

"No, I want to. Us...God, I don't know. We're best friends, and if we do this, this is a big move. Whatever our relationship is it's never going to be casual. We could change a lot of things, and it could all go wrong, and I know I'm babbling but I do really need to think about this."

"Would you like me to go?"

"No. No, just stay here. You haven't finished your tea. I'm going to write in my diary." Posner turned round on his chair, and soon Akthar heard the scratch of his pen against the paper.

* * *

It was still dark when Akthar awoke on May Morning, to the sound of a rhythmic thumping at his door. His clock showed that it was barely past five, and the cause of the thumping was a bleary-eyed and disheveled Posner, who somehow managed to look both half-asleep and agitated simultaneously. "Morning." As soon as Akthar had opened the door wide enough, he came straight into the room and flopped down on his friend's bed.

"Oh God, oh God why am I doing this," he moaned - a touch dramatically, Akthar couldn't help thinking. "In forty-five minutes I have to climb Magdalen Tower and sing an invocation to spring. I'm so tired I'll probably fall down the steps, I'm fucking terrified of heights and even if I get up there without dying I will open my mouth and be unable to sing a single note. Don't make me do it, Ad."

"Pos, you're doing it," Akthar replied sleepily. Awake for less than five minutes, he had barely followed his friend's speech at all. "But let's have coffee first."

Despite protestations about the adverse effects of coffee on his vocal chords, Posner still took the offered cup gratefully. They sat and drank, relishing the warmth of the mugs against their hands on a morning that was still chilly with the vestiges of spring, and for several minutes there was a soft, companionable silence. Akthar, taking a sidelong glance at his friend, realised that since his confession a week or so before, this was the first time Posner had seemed entirely at ease with him. Things had been outwardly normal, but the normality of their daily routine had been _too_ much so, ever so slightly forced. He didn't know for certain what it was that made today different from yesterday, but at least he could look at his friend and feel better about the situation.

Observing Posner now, Akthar realised that he hadn't really looked at his friend since then either, too concerned with giving him his space to feel that he could give him more than the most cursory of glances. And he realised that even tired and unkempt in the first emergence of dawn, his friend was still... _beautiful_ was the only word for it. Blond-haired and blue-eyed, his pale complexion was everything Akthar's was not, and his fine, strangely feminine features were nothing short of bewitching. He felt as though he could look at Posner forever, only now the other boy had caught his eye and turned away quickly, his neck flushing slightly. Akthar looked down just as sharply, and stared into the murky dregs of his coffee, feeling embarrassed. _Is this what it's going to be like now?_ he wondered, despondently. _I can't even look at him without it being awkward. I shouldn't have told him._

* * *

The morning air was chilly, and Akthar dug his hands deeper into the pockets of his coat as a shudder ran through him. Even from his vantage point in the middle of Magdalen Bridge, he was too far away to make out the individual choristers assembling at the top of the tower, though he could see flashes of their white robes through the stonework. There were people all around him, a group of friends from college to the side and students, dons and strangers beyond; their buzz of chatter suddenly fell away as they heard the first strains of song floating over from the tower. As the music swelled, one harmony rose over the melody in an almost unearthly fashion, and the bridge was stilled in awe. And though Akthar could neither hear Posner or see him distinctly, it hardly mattered as his mind fell into step with the stream of notes, gliding from one refrain to the next with ease; he thought that if he were ever to have a religious experience in his life then this was it, as in the song he could somehow feel Allah, and God, and every thing divine.

* * *

"Told you you wouldn't die," Akthar said. "Juice, please." They were sitting on his bed, slumped against the wall. Akthar was pretending he hadn't noticed that they were very slightly slumped against each other. Shoulders touching. Once he'd noticed, he couldn't get it out of his mind. Shoulder and some bicep. He really needed to stop this.

"Here." Posner had to move to pass him the juice, thank God, because his guard was down and there were some things he really didn't need right now. "Be glad you didn't have to go back down that staircase. What time is it?"

"Half four."

"We got up at five this morning. Why are we still awake?"

"Because it's May Day, and I'm drunk, and I don't care." Akthar slumped back against Posner without realising what he was doing, then cursed silently. He was about to invent an excuse for sitting back up, but then he felt Posner lean into him ever so slightly. Shoulder and bicep. And oh God, a small bit of thigh. _Pull yourself together._

"...at nine," Posner was saying.

"What?" Akthar felt a twinge of guilt when he realised he hadn't even been listening.

"I have a tute at nine."

Akthar frowned. "Pos, it's Saturday tomorrow. Or today."

Posner blinked. "Oh. Then I don't." Looking properly at Akthar for the first time in several minutes, suddenly his face changed into a funny half-smile, as though he was considering something. It was a nervous expression, and Posner's hands were clasped together in his lap, which was a sign.

"What is it?"

"Well..." Posner looked down and fidgeted for a second. Akthar could feel his heart suddenly start pounding as he instinctively knew what this was going to be about.

"I've been thinking," Posner stuttered. "Basically, I like you, as well. And I've decided that it's worth the risk of possibly messing up our friendship, which I don't think will happen anyway but you never know. So...I don't know. There it is, I suppose."

Posner looked up at him, his eyes clear and wide in anxiety, and Akthar felt indescribably moved. This was strange and terrifying and so fucking _right_ that he wanted to scream. But it was half four in the morning, and Posner looked even more fearful than he did, and he really wanted to kiss him, but he knew that Posner had never been kissed and he could practically see his friend shaking. So instead, Akthar smiled as wide as he knew how, said "Okay," and put his arm around Posner's shoulders. It was barely a moment before Posner snuggled up to him and closed his eyes, fitting under his arm as naturally as if it had been made to embrace him.


End file.
